


The Baby Maker

by JustMosie



Category: Jane/Lisbon - Fandom, Jisbon - Fandom, Mentalist, The Mentalist
Genre: Couch, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-06
Updated: 2013-04-08
Packaged: 2017-12-07 14:47:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/749727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustMosie/pseuds/JustMosie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lisbon is ecstatic to find her old couch again, but Jane has some other ideas regarding what can be done with the little red couch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Old Couch in the Attic

The Baby Maker

Chapter One – The Old Couch In The Attic

Teresa Lisbon was ecstatic when she found her old red couch. She had had some idea long ago that it was up here, in the deeper part of the attic behind some old files and racks, but she honestly never thought she'd ever see it again.

Of course, she was wrong. And she was quite delighted to be so.

Smiling, Lisbon ran her hand over the smooth surface of the fabric. She closed her eyes and hummed at the feeling of being reunited with a long-lost…companion?

 _Is companion even the correct word for a couch?_ She wondered idly, and her mind drifted over to how much time Jane spent on his old leather one in the bullpen.

"Ah, getting reacquainted, I see."

When Patrick Jane made a sudden appearance, Lisbon couldn't help but jump a little. Yes, the man spent as much of his time up here in the attic – even after Red John had long since died – but he still surprised her for some reason. Mostly because she hadn't been up here in a while and he was either absent (possibly up in the attic, she knew) or on his couch in the bullpen.

Lisbon blushed a little and looked down at her old couch. "Yeah, I just never thought I'd see it again."

He held a cup of tea in that little blue teacup of his, and she could have sworn her heart sped up a little when he lifted the piece of porcelain to his lips to take a small sip. And he did it in an elegant manner, too.

Jane moved closer until his back leaned up against one of the neighbouring racks. "It's been up here all this time." He looked around the attic and grimaced a little at some cobwebs here and there.

She shrugged, "I'm never on this side."

Seeming to weigh her words in, he nodded his head back and forth before taking another sip of his tea. This time it was quite a generous sip, rather than before. It almost seemed like he was preparing himself for something.

_And that was…kind of nerve racking, in all honesty. When he gets a certain look in his eye, it can be quite dangerous._

Jane set his tea aside, on a nearby shelf, as he moved away from the rack he was leaned against. Fiddling with his jacket, Jane smiled at her and she felt some sort of…fear? Excitement? When her husband gave her that look she knew he was plotting something.

"I want to test a theory of mine."

She blinked. "A theory?"

Jane drew his lips into a thin line and nodded. "Yes, a theory that I have had for quite some time."

Lisbon quirked her eyebrow at him.

"What theo—."

She was cut off when his hand cupped the back of her neck and when his lips were placed over hers. At first, she was a bit surprised. Their boss, Agent Michael Hartson, made it explicitly clear that they were not to engage in any sort of office romance. They had to keep that all at home, for the most part. Though, that didn't stop her husband from stealing a kiss (or a feel) every once in a while.

When she finally returned to her senses after the initial sensation of his lips over hers, Lisbon's eyes slipped closed and she moved so that her hands would slide through Jane's hair. His other hand, the one not holding onto the back of her head, wrapped around her waist and pulled her petite body closer to his.

Both of their jackets had been shed long before he un-tucked her shirt and ran his slightly calloused hands over the length of her back. His fingers took special notice of each and every vertebrae, almost as if he were counting each one.

His lips moved to her ear and she trembled. This was not a good idea, she knew it, but she nevertheless allowed him to have his way with her here, on her old red couch in the creaky attic. And when it was all over, she lay predominantly atop his body, her head on his chest. Their hands were clasped and she could have sworn that she saw a slightly smug look on his face as he drifted off into a light slumber.

That was another attribute of Red John no longer being a bother in their lives. Patrick Jane could finally find the time to go away to dreamland and take her with him on a glorious adventure.


	2. The Rendezvous with the White Stick

Chapter Two – The Rendezvous With The White Stick

According to Rigsby, apparently, she had gotten up on the wrong side of the bed that one (slightly crispy) autumn morning. The agent had spilled the beans that he had felt this way to Cho as he was making his second cup of coffee that morning, and Lisbon had initially felt the urge to walk into the kitchenette and give him an earful. And as soon as she had made that decision that she was going to converse with Rigsby about his, albeit rude words, Lisbon's stomach had churned and she found her person clutching onto a nearby trash bin.

_Goodbye, eggs._

It wasn't the first time she had vomited that morning, either. The third, to be exact, and she wanted nothing more after that to return home, brush her teeth, and slip under the covers of her bed in her nice pajamas. But, alas, she had paperwork to do due to her insufferable husband's inability to keep his mouth shut.

Yes, Jane had managed to get himself into trouble again. This time with a high-end nightclub owner who was pressing charges for "emotional turmoil caused by law enforcement employee."

Jane had apologised, of course, but she was still pissed at him.

Now, seated in her office, Lisbon continued on with her paperwork even though she felt clammy, crappy, and craggy. Her husband entered at this point, and at his entrance, Lisbon almost not only threw her pencil at him but her stapler. If he didn't state his reasoning as to why he was within her presence, he was going to have a large bruise of some kind.

"How are you feeling?"

She quirked her eyebrow at him.

"You're looking a little green," he said.

Nodding, Lisbon tried to return to her paperwork. She also tired to ignore the smug lilt to his voice.

"You've been throwing up your breakfast all morning."

 _Lies,_ she thought, _she'd thrown up her breakfast a long time ago._

She flexed the fingers that were holding onto the pencil and she looked up at him. "What do you want? I'm busy, thanks to you."

Jane held up his hands in front of him, almost as if he was surrendering. "I'm just wondering how my wife is feeling. She has been, after all, feeling nauseous since she woke up."

She huffed at him and looked back down at her paperwork.

"For the past week, actually."

Lisbon looked back up at him. "Get her a strong cup of coffee with two sugars."

He shook his head – _such audacity!_

"Can't do that."

Jane moved so all she got was a side-view of a sort, his finger tapping his lower lip. Lisbon flexed her eyebrow once more and she leaned further up in her chair. "Why not?" she asked.

He turned to look at her fully and smiled slyly. "Because she's pregnant."

Pregnant?

**Pregnant?**

**_Pregnant?!_ **

Setting her elbows down on her desk, Lisbon massaged her temples with her fingertips and shut her eyes. "What do you mean _pregnant_?"

"Uh, she's with child."

Her eyes snapped open. "I know what pregnancy is!"

Once again, he held his hands up in defeat.

Leaning back harshly in her chair, Lisbon huffed. "I'm not pregnant."

Jane turned so he was facing her fully. "You are."

_Smug, arrogant jerk. So sure of himself._

"No," she said as she drew her eyebrows together.

Jane shrugged and reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a little box. Lisbon briefly wondered how he could fit it in there, but those thoughts left her mind when she saw the label. A pregnancy test.

"It's going to come back negative, you do know that, right?"

He shrugged again and set the box down on her desk. "Go ahead, prove me wrong," he said.

This time, it was she who shrugged as she picked up the pregnancy test and stood from her desk. Her husband sat down in front of her desk and smiled up at her. Groaning, she left her office and headed toward the bathroom, where she would prove her annoying other half wrong.

And she really had to pee.

She wasted no time in doing her usual bathroom ritual, briefly incorporating the test into the mixture. After flushing the toilet, Lisbon sat back down on the seat and waited for the longest two minutes of her life.

_What if she was pregnant? What if her husband, who is frequently right, correct about this? Was she even ready for a baby? Was it safe at her age?_

Closing her eyes, Lisbon took a deep breath and reached for the test. She was about to open her eyes and look down when she heard the bathroom door open and close.

"Teresa?"

Her breath hitched in her throat, realising that her husband had come in to view the results with her. With a sigh, Lisbon stood and opened the door. She stepped out with the test in hand until she was standing a few centimetres away from her beloved.

Carefully, he took her hand, which held the pregnancy test, in his and lifted it up. They both looked at the digital word imprinted onto the screen: pregnant.

She was pregnant.

With child.

There was a bun in her oven.

"Oh," she whispered.

Jane smiled and touched her jaw with his fingertips as he brushed his lips across hers. They were pregnant.


	3. The Restless Bun

Chapter Three – The Restless Bun

Lisbon groaned and rolled over onto her other side when she had become uncomfortable. Sleeping was seemingly an impossible task when you were pregnant, unless you were absolutely knackered. And truthfully, she was, but the restless child growing within her couldn't make up her mind as to where she'd rather be in her mother's womb.

"Is she at it again?"

Lisbon peeked one eye open and watched as her husband, shirtless, entered the bedroom. He usually stayed up later than she, opting to give her her space as he read in silence. Though, sometimes he would lay with her and read, but tonight was one of those nights where she'd had an awfully uneventful day at work followed by a restless baby throughout dinner. It all left her a bit cranky, was all.

Nodding, Lisbon was about to move over onto her back when her husband moved forward and motioned for her to stop. "No, do not move," he said.

She paused in her movements and felt the bed dip behind her. His hands were placed on the swell of her belly, rubbing gently. She shifted a little and shut her eyes, humming as the baby kicked underneath her father's hands briefly before stilling her movements.

It was not an uncommon thing for the baby to get a little restless and for Jane to be the one to be able to calm her down. It amazed Lisbon that the man had some influence over an unborn child, but in all honesty she couldn't put it past him.

"She's calming down," he whispered against her ear.

She nodded against him and interlaced her fingers with his, directly over their growing baby. "She's been at it all day."

Jane pulled away from her slightly, not moving his hand away from hers, and took his other hand to brush some loose hair behind her ear. "Why didn't you tell me?" he frowned.

Lisbon shrugged against him. "You were busy."

"You were uncomfortable."

She rolled her eyes. "Patrick, I'm pregnant. I'm almost always uncomfortable."

He pressed a kiss into her hair. "And as the one who helped get you this way, I ought to assist you any way that I can."

Lisbon knew that her husband disliked it when she didn't tell him that she was uncomfortable. But really, if she told him every time that she felt some semblance of discomfort she'd never get alone time. He would be glued to her side twenty-four hours of the seven days in the week. And she'd kill him before their child was born to help maintain shred of her sanity.

"Are you comfortable?" he asked her as he tapped his fingers against her swollen belly.

She nodded, "Yes."

"Good," he said as he shifted and pressed a kiss at the corner of her mouth before nuzzling her ear.


	4. The Baby That Confirmed That Theory

Chapter Four – The Baby That Confirmed The Theory

Her body had also just been on display to each and every one of the medical staff, it seemed, but she didn't care about that. She was tired, sore, and slightly hungry. She really wanted that chocolate pudding that had previously been offered to her and her daughter, Emma.

Lisbon watched as her husband stood by her bed, their little bundle in his arms. He cooed softly and pressed a soft kiss to their daughter's crown as he bent down and shifted Emma into her arms. It sure wasn't the first time she had ever held Emma, but she just couldn't get enough of the little newborn.

The abundance of dark brown hair.

The little button nose.

The small sounds.

The little fingers.

The little yawns.

The pinkness.

Their baby.

Emma Katherine Jane.

Jane climbed into bed with her and she scooted over a little to help accommodate him. Carefully, he wrapped his arm around her upper torso so that she was leaning against his chest. Lisbon loved being so close to her husband and holding onto her their child.

Her husband leaned down and pressed a kiss against her ear. She shivered at the sensation that traveled down the length of her spine.

"My theory was correct," he said.

Eyes widening, she moved her head away from him and looked at him with a quirked brow. "Theory? What theory?"

"The one I was testing in the attic."

She blinked and he leaned in close.

"My theory was that your old red couch would be an excellent tool for procreation."

Her eyes widened. "Patrick Jane, did you get me pregnant on purpose?"

The man shrugged – she'd been living these last nine months thinking that Emma was just a wonderful accident! A blip in her taking of birth control….

"You screwed with my birth control, didn't you."

It was not a question, but a statement. And she knew that he knew that.

Smiling at her, he pressed a kiss to her cheek. "My theory was right, by the way," he said.

"Want to hear my theory?" she asked, teeth clamped together as she felt her temper rise (hormones, she swore).

"Meh, no thank you."

~The End~


End file.
